


I Wanna Go

by justasparkwriting



Series: River [1]
Category: bts, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Dating, F/M, Fluff, Love, Min Yoongi - Freeform, Moon River, Musicians, Real Life, Smut, Yoongi min - Freeform, bts - Freeform, real person fiction - Freeform, relationship, river - Freeform, suga - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasparkwriting/pseuds/justasparkwriting
Summary: Every relationship ebbs and flows. Some come back, some retreat, some merge and flow together. This is River, a series examining what it means to be caught in one.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook & You, Jeon Jungkook/Reader, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Reader, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/You, Kim Namjoon | RM/Reader, Kim Namjoon | RM/You, Kim Seokjin | Jin/Reader, Kim Seokjin | Jin/You, Kim Taehyung | V/Reader, Kim Taehyung | V/You, Min Yoongi | Suga & Reader, Min Yoongi | Suga & You, Min Yoongi | Suga/Original Female Character(s), Min Yoongi | Suga/Reader, Park Jimin (BTS)/Reader, Park Jimin (BTS)/You
Series: River [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016269
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	I Wanna Go

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to River by Leon Bridges first.

_Been traveling these wide roads  
 _For so long__

Yoongi trudged through the airport, hat low on his head, brim blocking any light from hitting his sun-glassed eyes. His body was at its breaking point. His eyes were permanently red and puffed. His demeanor was rigid. His brothers had tried to get to him, to ask what happened, to check on him in any way they could, but he had iced them out. His heart was frozen, and as he trudged through Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport, all he thought about was getting home to you, or whatever was left of your relationship and the home you graciously let him be a part of.

He prepared for the flight by buying a new journal, some leather thing with the airport logo on the cover. You’d wanted to come with him, to see your family in Minnesota, to take a few days off of work, to stop being so lonely. But Yoongi couldn’t make it happen. He kept promising to bring you out, to make arrangements, to find the time to have you with him, and every time he started to, something came up. He knew he could send management an email, get the assistances to figure it out. In the three months he’d been on tour, he hadn’t once made a move to. At first, you’d been adamant, insisting he find the time, demanding that he took a moment to try and be with you. There were people fawning over him at all points of the day, couldn’t one of them figure it out?

_My heart’s been far from you _  
 __Then thousand miles gone___ _

He knew the answer, yes. They could’ve. He was unmoving. As Yoongi moved deeper and deeper into tour, his mind becoming one tracked as he adjusted to the new schedule, his tie to you began to loosen. He didn’t reply to texts, he didn’t return calls, facetimes went unanswered, and after the first month, you’d stopped asking his group mates how he was doing. They’d try to offer solace, to give you some answers, the best they could do was “tour’s crazy” and “Yoongi gets like this, it’s not about you”. You’d felt no relief, no comfort in their attempts to dissuade your fears that Yoongi had moved on from your relationship.

_Oh, I wanna come near and give _  
 __Every part of me___ _

You spent the first year of your relationship flying to see one another. Yoongi was stateside often, and easily made trips between promotions to see you, or to fly you to him for a few days. When he’d gone to Korea for a five month stretch, he’d flown you out, showing you what his life was like 50% of the year. It had been thrilling, jet setting, meeting him in New York, or on your first anniversary, flying to London to watch them on Graham Norton and in the Live lounge. It’d been romantic, listening to him list the things he loved about you as you stood in your solo pod of the London Eye, watching the sunset over the Thames. You’d been falling in love… Your lives melding into one another’s slowly, friends meeting, mentions of family interactions. Flying to LA for New Years to officially meet the other members, kissing as the ball dropped… Discovering how your bodies moved together, what it felt like to have his skin glued to yours, lust in his eyes, hands gently caressing every inch. He was slow and methodical, practiced but always learning. Yoongi was enamored, his heart filling with love, love for you.

_But there’s blood on my hands  
 __And my lips are unclean_ __

Then tour happened. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. The first year had been hard, but so worth it. You’d realized video sex could be extremely hot, and sexting edged you both so well. Together you found a facetime schedule that worked, he called before going to sleep, as you were getting up, and you texted as much as you could. It was manageable. It was love.

What Yoongi hadn’t accounted for was the pure exhaustion of touring, performing for nearly three hours a night, multiple nights in a row. He hadn’t accounted for the wear his body felt after moving from time zone to time zone, never resting enough, constantly feeling like he was a step ahead of the worst hangover of his life. What he greatly underestimated was how much he longed to be with you, to come off stage and into your arms, to hear your laugh or pull you to him as you fell asleep. Long distance relationships were built to be challenging; this was Sisyphus, doomed to repeat the hellish torture of pushing the boulder up, up up, only to be flattened under its weight as it crushed him slowly.

_In my darkness I remember  
Momma’s words reoccur to me _

Yoongi did what he did best: he burrowed. He burrowed into himself, focusing on what he needed to do and what he had to do. He worked his shoulder to maintain its mobility, he practiced his dances, he slept every second the members didn’t need him, he put himself on vocal rest to maintain the strength of his chords. Yoongi didn’t know how to make room for you, so he didn’t. Your texts became overwhelming. Facetiming gave him panic attacks. He didn’t know how to talk to you, to tell you what he was feeling. So, he stopped calling, he stopped answering, he turned off the part of him that loved you, the part of him that was starting to build a life with you, and turned into the consummate professional, SUGA, and when the mood struck, Agust D.

_“Surrender to the good Lord_   
_And he’ll wipe your slate clean”_

It was a slow burn. A text left on read, again, you Facetiming Taehyung and Jungkook, speaking freely to the men, silent when he appeared. You stopped texting, stopped pursuing him out in anyway. The first call he’d made to you in three months, unanswered. The second was returned by silence. On the third, he left a voicemail. A voicemail he couldn’t take back. Texts he wished he’d never written. A broken hotel lamp, a shattered phone screen, and a new notebook filled with his regrets.

Yoongi didn’t know if you’d let him stay, he didn’t know if you’d listen to his apology, if you’d care if he cried or begged or pleaded. Part of him didn’t want you to, better to end a complicated relationship than to drag it on, devastating both of you, shattering your hearts in the process. But weren’t you already brokenhearted?

_Take me to your river_   
_I wanna go_   
_Oh, go, take me to your river_   
_I wanna know_

Yoongi slowly opened the door to your apartment, the key you’d given him still on his keyring. A silly keyring you’d gifted him with a cutout of your state, and its sole key on it. He smiled every time he grabbed it, knowing the usage of it meant he was a step closer to you. He quietly dropped his bags at the door, eyes adjusting to the darkness. He stumbled towards your bedroom, not bothering to shower or brush his teeth, his only thought finding you. He hoped you’d let him stay, entangled in the sheets of your bed, his favorite t-shirt adorning your sleeping frame. As he shrugged off his clothes, he felt the tickle of fresh tears and slipped silently into bed. He reached for you, and in your sleep, you molded into his touch.

_Dip me in your smooth water_   
_As I go in_   
_As a man with many crimes, come up for air_   
_As my sins flow down the Jordan_

You awoke before him, turning to face the man you thought wouldn’t ever come home. Delicately brushing hair out of his eyes, you felt the prickle of tears, the overwhelming power of his presence unbearable. You covered your mouth as your tears turned into sobs, and you moved to get out of the bed. Yoongi reached out, pulling you back to him.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He muttered, eyes adjusting to the morning light, hands on either side of your face, thumbs busy windshield wipering your tears away.

“Yoongi,” You whispered, eyes finally meeting his.

You stared, eyes locked, tears falling from both of your eyes, unwillingly to say what you’d both rehearsed.

_Oh, I wanna come near and give you every part of me_   
_But there’s blood on my hands_   
_And my lips are unclean_

Yoongi leaned in, lips soft and hesitant against yours. The salt from your tears mixed as you deepened the kiss, lips pressing firmly to his. He took your bottom lip in his, sucking it gently before swiping his tongue against it, you allowing him entrance.

His hands were under your shirt, cool hands soothing the heat that radiated off of you. As Yoongi’s hands roamed your body, reacquainting himself with the form he loved, his lips were offering a sermon on repentance. He didn’t know how to tell you, how to use his words or his lyrics to say what he meant, what he felt. On the plane, he’d endeavored to spend the four-hour flight articulating exactly what he was sorry for.

Sorry for neglecting you and your relationship.  
Sorry for not loving you enough.  
Sorry for ignoring you.  
Sorry for not treating you like a top priority.  
Sorry for not laughing with you.  
Sorry for not exploring the world with you.  
Sorry for not saying I love you for months.  
Sorry for missing you so much he burrowed himself into the deepest hole, unable to climb out.  
Sorry that you didn’t know how much you meant to him.  
Sorry that he had wrecked the life you were building.  
Sorry he’d closed himself off to you.  
Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

At the end, staring down the barrel of his failures, he didn’t both to try and write an apology, he had no words about reconciliation. He couldn’t bring himself to ask for forgiveness, you didn’t owe it to him, and he couldn’t ask for it.

As your bodies became one, the euphoria of being together coupled with the passion of intimacy, Yoongi begged for forgiveness. He begged for another chance. As you kissed him, tears mixing with sweat and heat, you cleansed his lips of the hurtful words he had spoken. Bringing his fingers to your lips, you kissed his fingers, consuming the blood of regret, of the texts he’d sent, the damaging words he let blind rage and pride send you. In your arms, holding him to you, eyes locked, hearts beating together, you absolved him of his misgivings, his mistakes, his seemingly unforgivable deeds. Yoongi let his love consume you both as his sins washed away.

_I wanna go, wanna go, wanna go_   
_Wanna know, wanna know, wanna know_

**Author's Note:**

> (Hope you like it... I'm in love with it)


End file.
